


That Punk...

by jazzychazzyboy



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ballet instructor x punk, how can this go wrong, kinda just a real self indulgent fic, rating for future chapters, sanji is a punk, soznotsoz, zoro is flexible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzychazzyboy/pseuds/jazzychazzyboy
Summary: Zoro works in a ballet studio; by days, he's a teacher. By nights, a performer.Sanji works in his dad's shady restaurant; by days, he's a top-notch chef. By nights... well.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	1. 1

Zoro exhaled slowly as he leaned forward, doing some cool down stretches after a long and tiresome practice. There is NOTHING worse than waking up the next morning stiff as a board (and not in any fun kind of way), groaning your entire way through your morning routine like an old fogie. No thanks. 

He opted, after changing out of his sweaty workout clothes (the compression pants were practically glued to him, so he just slipped some shorts over them) to swing by the bar on the way home for a couple drinks. Zoro was fully aware of the fact that his sense of direction could... use work, but when he'd moved to town he'd made sure to map out landmarks back to his apartment complex. He'd also made sure he was always within walking distance of his home; he worked at the nearby gym during the day teaching ballet to young kids (who can't tell their left foot from their right), and stayed after hours practicing with his troupe for the performance they've had planned for that fall. 

Long story short, he deserved a damn drink. 

So off he went, in the general direction of the bar, the brisk chill of the night cooling his heated body. 

After a few wrong turns and one single old lady trying to cross the road, he'd finally reached his destination. Zoro had lived in town for a few years now, and he got along with the owner here quite well. Zeff ran the building as a restaurant by day, but Zoro hadn't ever had the chance to stop by. So Zeff would save him a plate of a couple really good items from the day, and had it heated up by the time Zoro sat in his usual stool. On a usual day. 

See, turned out, it wasn't a usual day. Zoro opened the door and was greeted with the sight of some leather-clad blond punk in his stool, eating his plate of food. 

AND smoking a cigarette. Indoors. Fucking gross. 

Zoro meandered over to the bar, pointedly 'choking' on the smoke floating through the air. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, does the smoke bother you?" the blond sneered, taking a drag. 

Before Zoro could even remotely respond, that fucker blew his nasty lungful directly in Zoro's face. Fucking. GROSS. 

"Yo, blondie, what's your damage?!" Zoro levelled the man with his one good eye (the other is one HELL of a long story), giving a glare that would make even the most ballsy in his troupe shrivel like nuts in an ice bath. The blond just smiled a shit-eating smile.

"Not sure what you're talking about. I was sitting here, minding my own business, when out of nowhere a moss man starts making a scene about me smoking in my own bar. So, do explain, Moss Man; what, perchance, would YOUR damage be?"

Zoro's glare went uninterrupted. "Like fuck this is your bar. I know the owner. I've never even SEEN you before. Want to try again there, pipsqueak?" 

Blondie just sighed, and rolled the eye that wasn't hidden by his emo mop flop. He took the last drag off his disgusting cigarette, put it out on the bottom of his shoe, and tossed it in the trash can behind the counter (that Zoro only knew about because Zeff let him help himself to the nice ass alcohol if the latter was too busy). The punk took a deep breath, paused for dramatic effect, and let out a bellowed "OI GEEZER!"

Zoro frowned. Next thing he knew, Zeff came from the back of house through the swinging kitchen door. "Th' fuck you need, you royal pain in the-- Oh! Hey, Zoro!" Zeff broke out into a huge smile. "I was wondering when you'd show! I heated that plate for you--SANJI!" In the blink of an eye, Zeff was across the bar with his peg leg planted firmly on top of the Blondie's head. Sanji, Zoro gathered, was face down in a plate of lukewarm, half-eaten scraps that were INDEED meant for him. 

The ACTUAL owner rubs the back of his neck and sighs, freeing the blond from his rice pilaf grave. "Well, shit man. My shit-for-brains kid here ate the rest of the food I had left prepared. He works during the day shift, so he's not used to The Ritual. If you're okay with waiting for it, I can whip something up real fast?"

Zoro just waved him off. "Your shit-for-brains kid can make it up to me by buying my drinks tonight. I can always throw something together at home."

"Sounds like a deal! Sanji, hope you're paid up on bills. This man would put a sailor to shame," Zeff laughed. 

Sanji's jaw dropped (Zoro couldn't help but notice the tongue ring) and started tripping over his words. "You... Geezer... what the fuck?! Who are you to decide that on your own?! I mean, c'mon Pops—you cannot POSSIBLY be serious...?!"

Zeff only laughed harder. "You only call me Pops when you know you're fucked. Take responsibility like an adult!" Zeff chuckled his way back into the kitchen. "Give him your best service smile, kiddo! You're still on my clock!" 

Sanji just looked mortified, almost terrified. Like he just lost his human rights. Like he genuinely has to bend to the whim of a moss pile. Zoro had never been more offended. 

So... he had fun with it. 

"Oh, barkeep!" He returned a perfectly mirrored shit-eating grin the blond wore prior. 

Sanji set his jaw. His face cleared of all emotion like a mask had dropped. All in what seemed to be a single movement, the blond shed his leather coat and tied the majority of his hair into a sloppy bun (still leaving that stupid mop flop over his right eye—wait... is his eyebrow...curly...? What in the entire fuck?). Behind the counter a mere moment later, he'd already finished tying an apron around his waist and stood in front of the...honestly, astonished Zoro. 

"What can I get you." It wasn't a question; a flat, "you want business? Here's business." 

...which pissed Zoro off INFINITELY more.

The scarred man hummed, and made a whole show of his contemplations. Finger smooshing the lips in deep thought and all. After an excrutiating like... ehh, 47 seconds, Moss Man spoke. 

"Eh, make me what you usually get. Weird combo or not. I'm not paying, so I don't care for the price," Zoro punctuated with a smirk. 

Sanji hesitated. With a small frown, more confused than upset, he looked the man across him up and down. "... the fuck kind of flirt is that? Dude. Flattered. Charmed, even. But no. I've... got a girlfriend. And we are very happy...together."

Zoro almost jumped hearing Zeff bark a laugh all the way in the kitchen. "You're single as a Pringle, liar! By the by, have you found Narnia behind all your shirts yet?" The sound of Zeff cracking up at his own jokes filled the empty bar, eventually dying out in favor of the sound of washing dishes. 

Zoro's eye wandered to the (admittedly cute, now that he's actually looking) blond, to find the whole expanse of the skin wrapped around an empty skull was RED. Like, RED red. Strawberry red. "Oh my God Dad stop embarrassing me" RED. 

Holy shit, that's even cuter. 

Zoro couldn't hold back his laughter. "Oh, my! Who knew a human could be a tomato's twin!" he managed to gasp out between guffaws. 

Sanji turned impossibly MORE red. He looked like he could just combust, at any moment. Ticking time bomb. He'd turned around, facing away from Zoro, and busied himself making the drink ordered aaaaaages ago. With swift and trained hands, bottles flew in a mix of showmanship and aggravation. Not a second after the last bottle was settled home, Sanji whipped around with a huge glass of what he'd aptly named "Ragrets."

"Bottoms up, Moss Man."


	2. 2

Zoro eyed the pint of pure alcohol in front of him warily. "I asked for you to buy my drinks for the night, not buy me a night in the hospital... you're covering the cost of an alcohol poisoning treatment, right...?"

"Oh come now, Zoro!" The man shivered when he heard the blond trill out his name playfully. "I thought you could put a sailor to shame! Drink up!" There's that shit-eating grin again... but Zoro found himself not hating it as much that time around. 

With one more Ragretful glance at the glass, he stared the blond down as he chugged, breaking eye contact only when he had to tip his head to knock the rest back. Heaving an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction, he sucked his teeth and put the glass top-down on the bar. 

"That all you got, Curly?" The blond's jaw dropped. 

"...holy shit dude. Uh. I'm... respectfully, of course, going to ask for your car keys before I serve any more. I have seen men quite literally keel over after SIPPING a Ragret..."

Zoro burped—no, no that doesn't quite do the action justice. Zoro unleashed, from the very depths of Hell, a ferocious sound that could eat all the way through a cat's nine lives and give grandchildren hereditary nightmares. 

Before Sanji's own self. Like, in public. Where anyone from anywhere could just waltz in and be casually traumatized on an otherwise normal Friday night. 

"Nah, don't worry about all that. I just live a couple blocks up the street," Zoro continued, as if he hadn't just shown Sanji what true fear really was. "I just walk home from work, and stop through when I need a good end to my night. Which reminds me, you're still here why?"

Sanji, for the first time in his life, had nothing to say. He was shook to his very core by the sheer power behind that belch. And the Moss Man had no clue. 

"...yo, Blondie... wiggin' me out with the bug eye there... You could at least pick your jaw up off the floor, before someone trips on it."

Sanji's jaw promptly snapped shut. But it didn't seem to be due to Zoro; no. The blond was looking past him, to the door. His expression steeled in the blink of an eye. "Welcome. Wait in the back room, I'll bring it to you." Zoro didn't care enough to turn his head and catch a look, but boy. You really can't miss the pink feather coat when it takes up half the bar.

A quiet chuckle came from the mass of blinding garishness. "Go ahead and see this young man out, as well. He doesn't need to be here, right?" At that, Zoro DID turn. 

"This young man is fully capable of responding on his own. This young man will ALSO be keeping his ass firmly planted on this here stool until the owner himself asks the young man to leave." He felt a tap on his shoulder. A quick glance at the (frankly, scared shitless and trying desperately to hold it together) blond told Zoro everything he needed to know. He sighed, and turned back to the bar. He snagged a pen and a napkin, and scrawled his number (and then some) onto the flimsy paper before stuffing it into one of Sanji's apron pockets. With a groan, he stood. 

"Zeff!" he called to the back. "Your shit-for-brains kid owes me one!" With that, he turned to leave. He made his way towards the door, expression icy cold. 

The fluffy man sneered, and sauntered his way into the shadows. Zoro just rolled his eye, caught one more glance at the cute blond (reading the napkin!) and left at that. Three blocks down the road, he got his response. 

_Text me if you need somewhere safe for the night._

_(XXX) XXX-XXXX_

_-Z_

_...send the address and ill be there when this bird is halfway to another state._

_-s_

Zoro had never felt his fingers fly across the keyboard faster. He'd also never run that fast to his apartment. He'd also never cleaned the whole thing, top-to-bottom, as fast as he did that night. 

...if only he could have that kind of motivation like... ALL the time. 

After a hot shower to de-grime from the day, Zoro (clad in biker shorts and a wife beater, his usual "bumming around the house" look) made up the couch with the only spare set of bedding he had. He lived alone his whole life, so only really had an extra set for when his usuals were in the wash. Zoro lit a SINGLE candle, because it smelled like sandalwood and it was one of very few things that could calm his nerves, and waited. 

...and waited. And waited. Next thing he knew, three in the morning rolled around and he let out a huge yawn. He had classes the next morning...

He shot the man a text, letting him know the door was unlocked in case he fell asleep. Zoro turned on Netflix, and just twiddled his thumb randomly on the remote to find something new, and hit play on where the cursor landed. 

He readied his things in his bedroom down the hall for the next morning (later that morning?). Zoro made sure he had clothes laid out for himself, alongside his keys and wallet on his night stand, and his duffel with a spare change of light clothes for the practice the following evening. 

It was as he was padding back into the living area that someone knocked at Zoro's door. Trying to not sprint to the door like a teen girl expecting her crush for a first date, he peeked through the peep hole. He saw the back half of a fidgety blond, wearing a familiar black leather coat. He couldn't help but smile a little. 

Wiping his face of all emotion, he stepped back and opened the door to let Sanji in.

A beaten, bruised, and bloody Sanji.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey uhhh content/trigger warning!! if the end of the last was any indication, sanji Hurty. 
> 
> body hurty, brain hurty, heart hurty. the trifecta.

"When I offered a safe place to stay, that was a JOKE! Kinda! I got weird vibes from the fluffy ass bird guy, but I had no clue he was THIS whackadoo!" Zoro prattled on, Mother Hen-ing all over Sanji, the latter sitting on the couch holding a bag of frozen peas to his face while the former ran around with rolls of gauze and bottles of various sterile wound-cleaning liquids teetering precariously in a mound clutched in his frantic arms. Any hint of a buzz he felt from his drink earlier had completely vanished the second he pulled the blood-soaked man through his front door before anyone called the cops. 

"Oh? What are you saying there, Moss Man? This isn't a safe place to stay? If that's the case, I'm gonna hop my happy ass out the door," Sanji teased. For which Zoro smacked him. Which earned Zoro a whimper, and immediately felt shitty. Which meant Sanji ultimately won. Right? That's how that works?

Zoro dumped his armload of medical supplies on the coffee table, and Sanji took the peas from his face to get a better gander at his savior. He was too busy being a dick earlier to realize that...whoa. Moss Man is HELLA hot. 

...damn. 

But, Sanji reminded himself, there is no way this HUNK is actually into him. He saw the panic at the bar, and offered an out. 

"I won't force you to stay, but you did come here. May as well take the bitch stickers and peroxide while you're at it." Zoro sat next to Sanji on the couch, and held out his hand—palm up. Open. Receptive. "Now, let me kiss your boo-boos better."

Sanji felt his face flare up like a match in a gas tank.

Nope. No way Moss Man is into him. Nuh uh. 

Zoro raised his scarred brow. "...you alright? Fever?" He reached his hand up to touch the blond's forehead, but Sanji flinched away. Seemingly by habit... Zoro pulled his hand back immediately, almost smacking himself in his haste. "Sorry! I didn't mean to–!"

"It's! Fine... it's fine, really. You didn't do anything wrong. Um. No, no fever. Just... tired. Long night." And he looked it. Sanji deflated like a balloon, as if the statement itself took all his energy to make. Zoro frowned, worried, and looked back at the mess on the table. 

"...if you will just let me do a basic check, and get the worst of it dealt with, I'll leave you alone to sleep. You're Zeff's kid; I trust you on that basis alone. Don't fuck that up, for you OR him."

Sanji bristled. At least he looked alive. "Don't you _DARE_ insinuate that I would EVER marr his name. I owe that man my life and more." After he fumed, he just...rolled over. "But I won't decline the help right now. Thank you."

Zoro waited, then hummed with a nod. "Alright. Uhh, I guess...show me what you've got...?" If Sanji were in any better state, he'd almost say he might have seen the hint of a blush, maybe. 

With slow, deliberate movements so as to not disrupt his injuries more, Sanji peeled off his coat and bloody shirt underneath. Zoro's eye widened and he couldn't hold back the gasp. 

Everything in him went white hot. He hadn't felt this kind of rage since... Don't think about that now, Zoro. You might actually commit a murder for a relative stranger. 

Sanji's skin was criss-crossed with what looked like super thin whip lashes, bleeding heavily in spots where they are even more dense. Welts and bruises colored large parts of his skin with a dark rainbow of pure pain. It looked like it hurt to BREATHE, let alone walk all the way from the bar to Zoro's apartment. 

Beneath the gore, though, Zoro saw scars. Layers of years of abuse. His rage grew, the white hot becoming numb. 

"Who did this."

"Zoro–"

"Who. Has been hurting you. For so long. Give me a name." Not a question. A demand. A plea. A plea to the man hurt in front of him to ask for help, like he'd clearly refused to do. For YEARS! 

"Before you get any fucking stupid shitty ideas, it wasn't the Geezer. He... doesn't know even a quarter of it. That's being generous. Just... please. Don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. This is something I signed up for with my life years ago. Don't think you can meddle now." Sanji's anger was bubbling itself. "This was a mistake. I'm leaving." He started to go for his bloody clothes, and Zoro grabbed his wrist. 

"NO! I mean, please." He let go as soon as he made contact. "Please. At least let me patch you up. I'll beat myself up over it forever, letting you leave like this." Zoro looked Sanji in the eye for the first time in what felt like years, pleading. Pleading the hurt man in front of him stay. 

Sanji hesitated, arm halfway into a soaked sleeve. He looked conflicted. Like if he didn't leave right now, he'd regret it. Like if he left right now, he'd regret it. 

He looked lost. 

"Please," Zoro tried, just one more time. He'd accept whatever answer at this point. He just hated this silence. 

"...fine. Since you look so cute when you beg."

Zoro... accepted that answer. Because it was anything but silence. Doesn't mean he didn't blush like a virgin. 

"HAHAHA! WHO was the tomato's twin, again?" Sanji threw his head back and roared with laughter. 

...It was a really, really good look for him. Bloody and all. 

Zoro scrubbed his face and stood, shuffling around to make some hot wet rags. Putting them in a bowl on the coffee table, he handed one—wrung out to not drip all over his couch—to Sanji. "You're a big boy. Help clean yourself up." With that, he began wiping the blood off the blond beauty in front of him. Said blond still had the hint of a smile playing at his lips while they worked together to de-gore the battered man, looking up at Moss Man through his mop flop every now and then. 

Fuck. Mother Hen Moss Man is too cute. 

Sanji bit his cheek, and his pride at the same time.

"I feel like we may have started on the wrong foot..."

"Y'think? How many bloody babes have you had to patch up after they ate your dinner and caused you a minor heart attack in the comfort of your own home?"

"... so, okay. Now, with my body already aching as it does, my heart hurts, too." But Zoro thought he was a babe...huh? Noted. "Sorry about eating the food I thought my dad made me for dinner after a long day at work. Won't make that mistake again, trust me." He snickered. "Fuckin'... anyway."

Sanji cleared his throat and held out his hand. "Hey. My name is Sanji. I work for my dad at his restaurant during the day, which is probably why we haven't met before this disastrous excuse for a night. Nice to meet you."

Zoro stopped. He still had his hand on the rag, which was still on Sanji's body—just above his hip, more precisely. The moment stretched into what felt like hours, but ended what immediately felt like far too soon as Zoro continued mopping up wounds. 

"Nice to finally meet you, Sanji. My name is Zoro. I spend my days training a herd of crotch goblins how to pretend they paid attention to a ballet instructor, and my evenings choreographing a performance for adults who can actually withstand the discipline required for the school of ballet I train. Then, my nights are usually spent with Zeff with a nice, hand-picked selection of the chef's best from the day and a glass of something that bites back. After I end my long, exhausting day on a lovely note, I meander home and crash. Rinse, repeat."

"Holy shit dude, I didn't ask for a whole ass novel." Sanji started laughing again, and Zoro just sighed. At this point, it's four in the morning, and he has to be up and ready in two hours to open the gym by seven to welcome the toddling nightmares into his precious space. Zoro was EXHAUSTED. He yawned, his body making the point for him. 

"Okay. Now that we've got the AA introductions out of the way, focus on cleaning yourself so I can prep some patches." Zoro took the last clean spot on his rag and gently brought it up to Sanji's bruised (but still, somehow, beautiful) face to finish out the dye job. His eye locked with Sanji's and he felt his heart skip a beat. 

The chef looked... vulnerable. Open. Receptive. Like he was letting down walls he wasn't aware were up. And Zoro couldn't stop himself. The throb in his heart pulled at him. Pulled him forward. 

Pulled him into the chef's space. 

Pulled him into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yohohoho


	4. 4

Zoro snapped to just in time to pull himself away, before he did anything either of them would regret. 'Pull' is too mundane; Zoro, in reality, flung himself across the room and into a defensive stance, far from the EXTREMELY confused chef. 

The Moss Man's hand clapped over the lower half of his burning face, and glared at the floor like it offended his grandpa personally. "Bandages are on the table. Bathroom is down the hall, I'll put some fresh clothes in there then I'm going to bed." Before either of them could say anything else, and not really even checking that the chef could understand his mumbled ramblings through the hand crushing his own jaw, Zoro rushed into his bedroom down the hall and locked the door behind him. He clutched his heaving chest as he slumped backwards into the door. 

'What the fuck was that?! What?! The FUCK?! Was THAT?!' His eye was about to pop out of his head, only the sound of his own blood was filling his ears. 

'I mean, really?! Am I back in France suddenly?! I haven't even THOUGHT about anyone else like that in years, and suddenly I'm about to pounce on some rando?! Some rando that I was in the MIDDLE of cleaning blood off of?!' His mind spiraled out of control, twisting and turning into dark corners that rarely were visited. 

Zoro shook his head violently, physically trying to rattle the last of his two marbles out. Hoping to just gain some peace. When that didn't work, he scrubbed at his face, physically trying to remove the shame. Hoping to regain some dignity. 

After his patented 30 Second Meltdown, he set his shoulders and moved about to his dresser. He grabbed a pair of black sweats with an adjustable waistband (Blondie's hips were far more slender than his own), and another tank top from a drawer fully dedicated to the singular clothing item. As an afterthought, he dug through his closet to take out a big hoodie. He wasn't sure how proud the chef on his couch was of the battle scars he's gained. 

He folded them together neatly and started towards his locked door. Zoro's hand grasped the knob, thumb ready to release the lock. And he hesitated. 

Zoro was... scared, he realized. For the first time in a LONG time. Of what, he wasn't quite sure. 

Maybe of how the hurt man on his couch would react. Maybe of looking down the hall and seeing the couch empty, and the door swinging shut. Maybe of looking down the hall and meeting the eye of a disgusted man, wanting answers. 

Maybe he was scared of many things in that moment. 

Which, he will argue til he's blue in the face on his dying breath, is why he jumped when he heard Sanji knock on his door. 

He froze. Straight up froze. Hand still on the doorknob, thumb still on the lock. Staring intently at the source of the sound. 

Then it came again. Zoro took a deep breath, flipped the lock open with his cramped thumb, and pulled the door open to face his fear dead on. 

Zoro pulled the door open to face Sanji... smiling. A soft, almost nervous smile. 

And all the shame flared into an overwhelming feeling of something he couldn't quite put a label on. But, he kept a lid on it to deal with later, because he was honestly so fed up with his own shit at that point. Self-inflicted whiplash is the worst. 

They stood in silence for a second; Zoro's hand was still on the doorknob, the other hand balancing a stack of neatly folded clothes. Sanji was fidgeting with the bloody shirt, clearly trying to muster the courage to say something. Zoro didn't want to hear it. Not right now.

He held out the clothes as Sanji finally opened his mouth, about to say what Zoro was dreading the most. 

'Flattered. Charmed, even...'

And the blond's jaw snapped shut. Just like that. He took the clothes, and was turning to cross the hall to the shower. 

And Zoro's heart pulled.

Pulled him to take a step closer. 

Pulled his clenched jaw open. 

Pulled the words from his throat—

"What... what were you gonna say?"

Sanji paused. And he turned around beaming. 

"That as flattered as I am you want to kiss me, of all people..."

Zoro's heart sank. He knew it. He should have just shut his mouth. Should have steeled himself, like he'd been doing for years—

"The least you could do is buy a fella dinner first."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, we just met and—wait. Wait..." Zoro's brain lagged as it tried to process what the half naked blond chef standing before him just said. "...wait."

"Waiting...?" Sanji laughed. "You look like you're about to stroke out, so I'll let you get some sleep. Is there any specific towel to use when I'm done?" 

Zoro felt neurons die. He genuinely felt little pinpricks in his brain as his brain was imploding trying to not only accept the fact that the blond was into him, but ALSO willing to spend a normal evening with him. 

"Uhh... blue..." was all he could manage, eyebrows furrowed almost into one with the effort. The blond laughed again (Zoro was really, REALLY starting to like the sound) and nodded with a little salute. 

"Off to bed with you, good sir. If you're up by six, I'll have breakfast ready for you." Zoro just nodded and watched as the (fuckin', god-damned BEAUTIFUL) chef walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, casting a quick smile over his shoulder. 

With that, Zoro shuffled towards his bed, brain still reeling (but with oh-so-good things) and passed the FUCK out the moment his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> night night


	5. 5

Zoro woke—before his alarm for the first time since he moved to town—to the sound of sizzling fat and the smell of a good, honest-to-god breakfast. 

...meaning there's at least bacon. Zoro smelled bacon and that is all he truly cared about. He vaguely remembered possessing bacon, and hastily threw it in the freezer before it could go bad. 

'At least it's getting used,' he mused to himself. 

Then, as the reality of being awake hit him, so did the events of the night (morning?) prior (earlier?!). 

As the reality of last night hit him, he instantly denied the existence OF reality, rolled over, and groaned into his pillow as he felt shame creep up his face. 

Yeah, it turned out FAR better than he could have ever hoped, but like... god, it sucked. He was exhausted. He would give his other eye to sleep for...ten years. Ten years of sleep seems like a pretty even trade for going completely blind, right?

His thoughts were RUDELY interrupted by his alarm, reminding him that reality is, in fact, real. For six seconds, Zoro silently begged the alarm to just cease to exist. Then he got fed up with the obnoxious noise, and admitted to himself he had to get up and like. Be an adult. 

...fucking...ew. 

He shuffled about, rubbing sleep out of his eye as he maneuvered his bedroom on muscle memory alone.

Zoro stripped of the skin-tight clothes he's NOW realizing gave the chef a damn near perfect view of his... package. 

All night. 

...aaaaaaaaaand there's the shame again. He groaned again, this time not even giving a damn to hide it. 

Zoro. Hated. Mornings. 

Zoro also remembered that a hot dude was cooking him breakfast, and as he shimmied into sweats and another tank (seriously, he had a problem), he thought to himself that he really doesn't mind this morning all that much. Once the socks were on and most recent (bright yellow) hoodie under his arm, he opened the door to face the music. 

As he prattled towards his sorry excuse for a kitchen, the smell of seasonings he didn't even know he owned hit him. 

And his stomach betrayed him, like a true bastard. 

Sanji's head turned and greeted him with a wide smile. "Good morning, Moss Man. I uh, hazarding a guess here... I take it you're not a morning person?"

Zoro really, REALLY hoped the returning look was enough of an answer. Sanji's immediate motion to hit start on the coffee machine said it was. The chef was _prepared_ , dammit. 

The green-haired, barely-passable-as-human-before-8-am creature finally shot a look to the stove top, where he saw pancakes stacked, eggs fried, and OH GOD, BACON. He smiled a smile that only a man who just stirred from a coma smelling bacon could ever smile. 

And Sanji thought it looked fuckin' dumb. But, he decided to give Moss Man a break for the moment, because he was at the very least a civilized person for not picking on a pitiful man with one foot still basically under the covers. Instead, he loaded up a plate, tossed the finishing dash of salt and pepper over the whole thing, and set the still sizzling mound in front of the BEYOND muscular, half-dead man he was still mad at for not going through with the kiss. 

And fuck, the following dopey smile the chef earned himself was worth every. FUCKING. Second. 

He felt something in his heart pull. 

Pull him as far away from the Moss Man as he feasibly, politely could given the moment. 

Pull him away from endangering the shaky peace they've reached. Away from ruining everything. 

The chef turned away as he heard Zoro's fork dig into the meal he was provided, chewing on his lip instead of the cigarette he was DESPERATELY craving. 

...fuck. He needed nicotine. And that fucking bird took the last pack he had when he boogied off to who the fuck knows where. He felt the absence in his very fucking soul, Jesus fuck cigarette. 

Cigarette. 

CIGARETTE. 

Zoro saw the familiar fidgeting of a nic fit. He knew it well. He'd managed to get himself to a point now where a pack can last him a month, though. Less than a cig a day. He had half a pack to spare, still. 

So, like the benevolent Moss Man he was, he stood silently and snuck down the hall to his bedroom, his own precious pack nestled safely in the drawer of his night stand. 

He retrieved them, shoved on some shoes, and walked back out, significantly more awake. Zoro smelled the coffee before he heard his machine sputtering out the last of its brew, and he thanked the chef in his head. That still counts, right? He grabbed a mug and made his way over, wordlessly holding out the menthol pack with a flip of the lid. As he poured his coffee, he peered through the corner of his eye to see a dumbfounded blond staring back. 

"...what? You need a cigarette, right?"

"...but MENTHOLS, Zoro? Why not a red, like a real man?" The immediate look of regret when Zoro shrugged and snapped the lid shut gave Moss Man all the satisfaction he could have ever asked for that morning. 

With a good laugh and a half-ass decent slug to the arm, Zoro offered once more and was NOT refused that time. 

"Come on. I've got a little balcony outside the living room with a decent view of the city waking up." He cocked his head towards a sliding glass door, half-hidden by black curtains that reached the floor. Zoro snagged a lighter from the coffee table on the way through, mentally noting that the chef blew the candle out at some point. 

Speaking of...

He led the way outside, into the nice brisk chill of the rising sun, and closed the door behind Sanji. Zoro took a seat in one of the two chairs he kept outside for... a reason, now. A sip of hot coffee later, he finally took the time to look the blond over, wearing his clothes. 

He was a bit bruised, but just looked more tired than anything. That was good, at least. However, something that was GREAT was how his own sweatpants hung off the slim hips of the chef, tantalizing in their own way. His focus rising a bit, he noted that he also really, REALLY liked Sanji wearing his hoodies. Last but not least, Zoro's eye raised slowly to take in the face of the beautiful man sitting before him...

...only to realize he'd been caught staring. 

He stumbled over himself, trying to think of any excuse to get out of the embarrassment of the situation.

"Oh, dude, save it," Sanji started laughing. "I could feel you eye fucking me since we came outside. You're not sly, bud." The blond just laughed harder as he watched the blush bloom over Zoro's face. 

"Fuckin'... why haven't I kicked you out yet?!"

"How else would you get material for the Spank Bank?" Not even Zoro reeling back and WAILING on Sanji's thigh could stop the eruption of maniacal cackles. 

Zoro just slumped back in his seat, grumbling to himself angrily as he drank his coffee. It was cooling quicker than he would have liked, so he'd have like to finish it before THAT part of his morning was ruined, too. 

The two sat in, surprisingly, comfortable silence. Then Zoro remembered he had the lighter. 

"Oh, shit--" He hastily lit his own (a morning cigarette right after a hot coffee was one of the best things in this world, and he would DIE on that hill) before passing the lighter. 

"Oh." Sanji laughed a bit. "I completely forgot!" He lit his own, and passed it back.

Then the comfortable silence continued, well after they'd both snuffed the butts out in the ashtray nearby. 

Zoro was the one who broke it again. "Hey... did you mean what you said last night? About...about me taking you to dinner?"

Sanji paused, and shrugged. "I mean, I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested myself. It would also be a lie to say that I wasn't going to ask you myself later, if you didn't have the balls." He smiled, turning a lazy gaze towards the muscled mass. "But if you're OFFERING to pay, take this as my formal acceptance." 

The Moss Man couldn't hold back his own smile. "Then uh... is tonight too soon? Otherwise, I'm not free for the next week." 

"I felt my shoulder dislocate with all that arm twisting..." Sanji joked. 

"Harrdeeharr, swirly. Then you're just going to have to wait for a free meal, I guess." He stood and dusted himself unnecessarily, making a show of the following full-body stretch. 

"Alright, alright! You can feed me tonight, I GUESS," the chef laughed, and rose to his own feet. If the blond felt his eyes wander over the SCULPTURE of a man before him, could he really be blamed? He would chalk it up as getting even with Moss Man anyway. 

And fuck if Zoro didn't know EXACTLY what he was doing. Sanji cleared his throat and let himself back into the bachelor pad, leaving the door open for the bumbling Moss Mess behind him. 

"Hey, I know I'm already wearing some, but do you have ANY more clothes I could wear? I don't think a hoodie quite fits kitchen dress code..."

"Uhmm... maybe? What are you thinking?"

"I'd ask about a button down and slacks, but just looking at you tells me I'll be swimming laps in the extra fabric all day. So INSTEAD... just a plain white long sleeve?"

"Coming right up." Zoro trotted to his room once more, and gathered the rest of his things for the day on the way back out. He tossed the shirt Sanji's way, and paused. "Uh... if you don't mind my asking... how is everything?" 

Sanji just shed the hoodie and turned to show the dancer himself. His patch-job was clearly done blindly and half-asleep after four in the morning. Did he even sleep...?

Silently, Zoro took the answer and nodded, and Sanji slipped into the long sleeve. The hoodie went back over top. The chef slipped his shoes on, tapped them into place, and eyed the bloody, ragged clothes on the couch. "Uh..."

"There's no saving them. Just tell me if there's evidence I need to destroy."

"I mean... that's probably the only set of clothes I would ever WANT burned..." The pain in his voice, muted and muffled as he tried to make it, didn't go by Zoro unnoticed. He resolved to bring Sanji the ashes when he'd finished. 

"Heard. Ready, then?" Zoro did one last check, decided he had all his things, and led the way out on the chef's signal. They walked silently together, and Zoro stopped in front of the bar he'd never... noticed during the morning sun. 

...it was cute. 

They said their good-byes, exchanged some final details on their date later that night, and the chef went inside. 

But not before he caved to the pull in his heart, ran back, and gave the stunned Moss Man a peck on the cheek before disappearing inside the front door. 

If Zoro touched his cheek the entire rest of the walk to work, he didn't notice. 

If he was a little distracted, thinking of blond hair and slender hips, he wouldn't admit it. 

If he was starting to catch feelings for the bloody chef that stumbled into his apartment mere hours ago...

...well. That wouldn't be so bad.


	6. 6

Zoro's day went much like any other; he'd broken up a cat fight, because one girl had taken another's "spot" on the bar, when there was no sort of thing established. He gave them both a stern talking to over distracting the rest of his class, and how "There are no names on the bar—actually, hang on."

And the rest of his class period was spent having each of his students scrawl their name, age, and the date on the large wooden balance beam. "There. Now it's settled—EVERYONE has their name on this bar. Now it belongs to EVERYONE, equally. Can we kindly not fight about something so silly again?" 

He couldn't help the smile as his class enthusiastically agreed whole-heartedly. Yeah, they were kids, but they were also sponges. He knew it wasn't his responsibility in any shape or form to provide life lessons, but...in his position, why wouldn't he? 

Zoro would be more than ecstatic if one of his students came back, years down the line, to say he'd influenced their life for the better one way or another. Be it he was there to listen when the kid needed it, or he let the kid write their name on a beam to feel as included as everyone else.

He'd already let his troupe know through the group text earlier that he'd be absent from practice that night but they'd have access to the gym, and to lock it up when they were done. He got a little bit of a workout in himself because he still had over an hour before he was to meet Sanji back at the Baratie. He cooled down with some flexibility stretches, leaning towards his lead foot while doing the splits. 

After years and YEARS training in different schools of ballet, the only thing that could give his hammies a proper stretch was reaching past his lead foot, and putting his palms on the floor. When he'd finished wrapping up his cool down, he showered in the back and put on his best outfit packed for tonight specifically; a lovely pair of charcoal grey slacks with black pinstripes that hugged his ass JUST right, and a pale blue button-down that hardly hid how muscular he was. Couple that with buttoning only half of the provided closures, and he was set. 

He tossed the yellow hoodie in his duffel with the rest of his things and locked everything valuable in the safe in his back office. Finally, FINALLY, Zoro was able to start towards the restaurant he'd been chomping at the bit to run towards all day. 

But, because he was a whole-ass adult, Zoro reigned in his inner schoolgirl meeting her crush for dinner, and set a leisurely pace that would put him in the front door at their agreed time. Zoro took the time that evening, as the sun was setting, to look around. Not looking for landmarks, but just... looking. Smelling roses, as it were. His eye wandered the waking lights of the night life; neons flickering on as the sun's light faded. One advertised Booze and Boobs, another told any passerby of the bouquets of flowers housed within—was it too cliche...? 

...Zoro decided then and there, "Fuck it all entirely," and jogged through the front door. As he pushed it open, an honest-to-god, old-fashioned bell hanging on the door announced his presence. Floral smells graced Zoro's nose and he looked around at the beautiful array of colors, all proudly and gracefully displayed. The little old lady that sat behind the counter raised her head and turned to face her new customer...

Then she smiled a huge smile as recognition flashed over her weathered features. 

"Well hello again, young man!" Her voice sounded familiar as hell... Oh shit!

Zoro smiled back. "I'm happy to see you've been successfully crossing streets with no further issue...!" he joked, their meeting the day prior due to people flying through the crosswalk with no regard to the pedestrian yield. "I had no clue this shop was yours!"

"It's been in the family for quite a while," she replied, hints of history lacing her tone. "But I won't bore you with all the details... today," she added sneakily, failing miserably to hide her smirk. "What can I get for you on an evening as fine as this? You're dressed quite nicely... a date with a cute little lady?" 

At that, Zoro blushed. 

"Ahh... no?" 

"Ohoho! Who's the lucky young lad, then?" He couldn't explain it, but this li'l ol' lady in her family's flower shop accepting him just like that made Zoro feel so...warm. Like she was a grandma literally handing him a plate of cookies. THAT feeling. 

...or what he imagined that feeling to be, anyway. 

"Oh, he's just... well, no. 'Just' is too belittling. He's a whirlwind, and I've known him for a grand total of 24 hours. He's got eyes like the ocean, hair made of gold, and a voice like smooth, smoky jazz..." Zoro caught the knowing grin splitting the old lady's face ear-to-ear, and PROMPTLY snapped his jaw shut. Goddammit. "Uhm. Anyway. Uh. I just want something that's... uh... I don't know... blue?" Her raised brow was fuckin'... RUDE, at this point. 

"You wove words like you were raised by Shakespeare himself talking about a cute boy, but all you can give me for flowers is 'I don't know, blue?' I mean...come on kiddo."

Zoro's face flushed red in an INSTANT. "Maybe purple? Listen, I don't know flowers. This is the first date I've been on in probably 6 years, and I'm so nervous my belly butterflies have turned to hornets. Please, I beg, cut me a little slack here," he actually, genuinely begged. 

Grandma (his head contained his own thoughts, so he could think-name this lady Grandma and she would be none the wiser) just sighed, which offended Zoro ALL the more, and set to work getting a wrap ready for the eventual bouquet. Zoro chanced one more look at the shelves of flowers, and one stuck out to him. He meandered over to the bright red and yellow flower, its petals upturned—seemingly gravity-defying. Zoro perused the warmer colors, favoring none more and wandered back to the first. 

Grandma shuffled over to him and grinned a wide grin. "You have a great eye, kiddo—that's a Gloriosa, or Fire Lily. If that's one you're interested in, I'll gladly build the bouquet around it!" 

He could only nod, not even giving a damn about the price anymore. He'd pay anything to have her make a work of art around that flower. 

As she set around, grabbing various other BEAUTIFUL flowers (and rattling off their names at a speed that Zoro couldn't even hope to remember) that accentuated the three Fire Lilies in the middle; blues and oranges, a color combination Zoro would have never imagined to look so beautiful, were softened with a few well-placed yellow flowers. 

She brought her elegant, delicate bundle of blooms behind the counter where she carefully wrapped the stems in a couple quaint sheets of white paper that made the flowers even more vibrant. With a light grey satin ribbon, she wrapped a little folded note of care instructions and a couple packets of nutrients up cleanly and tied a well-practiced bow. The muted colors detracted nothing from the beauty bundled within. 

With a smile, she held the bouquet out to the scarred dancer. 

"This is... stunning, ma'am. Thank you. How much do I owe you?" he asked, reaching into a pocket on his duffel for his wallet. She just braced the bouquet on her forearm as she held her hand up. 

"Your money is no good here, young man. Save it for a really nice dinner," she beamed. 

"I couldn't possibly ask that of you...!"

"Then don't, and take the free flowers I am handing you." Her tone got a little more stern, and his instincts told him not to test Grandma. With a polite smile, he took the bouquet and thanked her as he walked out the door. 

He'd deny 'losing' a fifty dollar bill on the way out until he died. There was no way in hell she was going to him walk out with all that special treatment and NOT get a generous tip for her stellar customer service. 

Once hit with the cool evening breeze, he felt rejuvinated. Zoro's steps had FAR more pep in them, and he made it to the Baratie in record time. 

...still five minutes early... 

Maybe he wasn't so good at reigning in that inner schoolgirl, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just like... i need zoro awkwardly buying flowers from an awesome old lady in my life...
> 
> so i made it happen


	7. 7

When Sanji walked through the front doors of his father's bar, his home away from home, and was greeted with the most welcome sight he could envision...

As the door swung shut behind him, Zoro's attention diverted from the small glass of... some alcohol with no color to the chef entering behind him. And damn it all, he beamed like schoolgirl. Lightly-blushed cheeks sold the whole thing. 

Zoro couldn't help himself. He was anticipating nicely-dressed, sure. That's how Sanji seemed to roll, asking for slacks and such that morning. What he WASN'T expecting, however: a pair of well-loved jeans (that fit VERY well in ALL the right places) paired with an oversized orange button down, tossed over a light blue graphic tee. The 'distressed' backwards cap sold the whole thing. 

FUCK if Sanji's visage didn't delight. 

Zoro turned to retrieve the bouquet he'd hidden behind the bar, and if he stretched a little farther than necessary to show off his ass—could he be blamed? He'd worked _years_ for his perfect sculpt, he'd be damned if he didn't show it off for the first person he 'liked' in half a decade. 

The bundle safely supported, he stood back up and turned to catch the blond's eye darting back up to meet his. Mission accomplished. 

He felt his face heat up more and those belly-hornets returned with a vengeance.

"Uhh... I... I haven't done this in a while, so I'm not sure of the proper procedure, but... a little old lady in a flower shop created a work of art for you. Uh. From me. Kinda. I picked the one in the middle and she did the rest... uh..." He made his way to the chef he dared not look in the eye at that juncture, and held the gorgeous bouquet out. 

And when it wasn't taken from his hands, he got fidgety. Still not... eye-contact hard. Very scary. Wow. 

Fifteen seconds. Fifteen EXCRUTIATING seconds finally pass before Sanji sniffling made Zoro look up. 

His eye was met with the site of a weeping blond. 

Panic mode set in. He stammered his way through a lap of the room, unsure what to do with the flowers. He set it on a nearby table so incredibly fucking gently, as if it held his very life on the line, and made his way back to the chef. Zoro's hands hovered, unsure what to do with the crying Sanji. 

Sanji held his hands out and grabbed Zoro's wrists, causing the ramblings of a panicked schoolgirl to cease and an eye to snap to his own. Sanji smiled probably the widest fucking smile Zoro had ever witnessed on a human. 

"Sorry... holy shit," Sanji sniffled again and wiped his eye. "Like, super sorry, I don't know what happened there." He laughed and beamed at Zoro. "That's the first time I've ever gotten flowers. Let alone hand-curated by a Moss Man himself!" Zoro scowled, and Sanji only laughed harder, letting go to grab the bundle of vibrant colors and picked it up. "We even match... Zoro, you've outdone yourself, good sir."

"I... I just picked one of them... Granny picked the rest, it's just a coincidence..." Zoro found himself, suddenly, unable to make eye contact again. 

Sanji worked his way over, and Zoro's glare turned to the Converse-clad feet making their way towards him. And before he could react, the chef's arms wrapped around him. 

He froze. Fucking FROZE. Sanji fit perfectly. His head rested in the crook of Zoro's neck and shoulder, face still slightly warm from the little cry-sesh he'd had.

"These are beautiful, Zoro. Thank you." 

He felt his heart HEAVE him forward, and of his body's own accord, his arms wrapped around the chef. And Sanji. Fit. Perfectly. 

He smelled of expensive cologne and cigarettes, and felt like he was the other half of Zoro's whole. He didn't want to let go, but he also didn't know how long they'd been holding each other, but he ALSO didn't know how long it had been since he'd held another person like this, but...

Zoro loosened his hold, and Sanji pulled himself away—only far enough to make eye contact. He was very, VERY comfortable in the Moss Man's arms. 

...he felt safe. Like nothing else could touch him if Zoro was there. And he smiled, because that feeling was amazing. 

"So. Where am I emptying your wallet—I mean," he grinned cheekily. "Where were you thinking for dinner?"

And Zoro's panicked look of, 'oh shit dinner was a thing huh,' told Sanji that he didn't have anything planned. 

"Orrrr, is this one of those situations where I can pick the place? Because I've got one in mind."

Zoro's relief was palpable. Like, Sanji could physically touch the aura of 'I'VE BEEN SAVED' radiating from the Moss Man. 

He laughed and pulled himself, painfully almost, from Zoro's arms. 

"I'm going to go put these in water; if you've got anything you don't want to bring with you, go ahead and toss them just around the corner to the left behind the kitchen door. All I need is the walkway clear." Sanji made his way back, Zoro trailing closely behind with his duffel, and pointed to where as he passed to go search for a vessel to hold his bouquet. 

Zoro dropped the bag and rifled through for his phone, wallet, and keys. As an afterthought, he grabbed his cigarettes and his lighter. May as well. 

He righted himself and peered around the kitchen; he'd never been in there, understandably.

But holy shit. It looked like that shit in Ratatouille, but slightly smaller. Same amount of counter space, for sure, with barely narrower walkways and the physical setup looked like it had a beautiful flow to it. Just as hospital clean (which was strangely reassuring). 

Sanji returned from what he could only assume was storage, with an old robin-eggshell blue chipped vase. It was cute, and had a charming air of history. Chipped as it was, it was still kept. Hidden as it was, it was still cherished, Zoro could tell. 

"It's literally all we've got and I'm MORE than a little mad." Sanji set it on an island with a sink, and used a hosed nozzle to fill it. Reading the instructions carefully, he dumped half of a nutrient packet in and clipped the rest closed. Folding the care instructions back around the packets, he tied them around the neck of the vase with the ribbon from around the paper. Zoro couldn't help but stare. The chef looked right at home in the kitchen. 

Fuckin'... DUH, moss-for-brains. 

Sanji brought the flowers with him as he made his way back to the front of the house, Zoro following like a lost puppy. 

After setting it out in the middle of the bar, Sanji beamed once more at Zoro. "Ready?"

Zoro only nodded, biting his tongue. 

'For anything.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe awkward zoro is my favorite zoro im not sorry

**Author's Note:**

> this one may take a while to update!! life is CRAZY rn, but i wanted to get the idea going. trying to also determine interest; id love to hear ideas in the comments!!


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